


Sweater Paws and Sweet Pancakes

by Buckets_Of_Stars



Series: Peter Whump Dump [14]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Complete, Cute, Cute Peter Parker, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Hungry Peter, Kid Peter Parker, Mama Bear Tony Stark, Pancakes, Peter Stark - Freeform, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sleepy Peter, amused Tony, dad tony stark, morning fluff, pure fluff, son peter, sweater paws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/pseuds/Buckets_Of_Stars
Summary: When Tony woke up one early Saturday morning, he never expected to be bombarded by feelings while making his sleepy son pancakes.But that’s exactly what happens.





	Sweater Paws and Sweet Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. ENJOY THE FLUFF!:D
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

It’s a very well known fact that Tony Stark is _not_ a morning person.

  
The daily ritual has been the same for years: _Stumble in, mutter a greeting/curse at Friday as she reminds you of all the meetings you have to attend, then drink a couple gallons of coffee to start the day while you stare at the dull gray of the early morning, eyes burning from a full night tucked away in the lab._

  
But since adopting Peter, things have started to change.

  
Now his mornings are full of slightly burnt pancakes and the rush of trying to make it to the bus on time, of quick kisses pressed against unruly brown hair and the sweet sound of his child’s laughter. Tony can count on one hand how many times he had eaten breakfast alone in the last six months and the very thought of such an improvement makes him grow warm with love for his kid.

  
This morning is no different.

 

* * *

 

By the time Peter stumbles in, Tony has already made three whole stacks of pancakes, the sweet smell of butter floating around the entire kitchen. The teen stops in the doorway, appearing to sniff the air as his Dad flips more food off the stove.

  
Tony watches him as he rubs his face with his hands, the extra-large MIT sweatshirt that the man let him borrow getting bunched up and used as a sort of glove, covering his boy’s entire arm with the shear length. His eyes are half closed, the coco brown color a sharp contrast to his pale skin and the dark red of the shirt. Blinking slowly, Peter shuffles over to the table, taking a gigantic pancake off the top of the pile and clumsily slathering it with syrup.

  
He is honestly the cutest thing Tony has ever seen.

  
The genius watches, barely holding back a coo, as his son almost completely misses his mouth on the first try, getting butter and syrup all over his button nose and chin. Grimacing, the teen tries again, this time getting the food into his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes slipping shut as he slumps against the table.

  
“Still tired, buddy?” Tony asks, walking over and setting down his steaming mug of coffee next to Peter’s plate. “How late were you up last night?”

  
The boy snorts, his head flying up so fast Tony is surprised it doesn’t pop off. The momentum forces his chair back, the legs rising off the floor slightly and Tony reacts without thought, grabbing onto his boy and pulling him forward. His eyes wide, Peter settles back into his chair after a second of stunned silence, his grip on Tony’s sleeve never loosening even as he goes back to his breakfast.

  
“N-not that late.” The boy says, his sentence getting cut off with a yawn that resembles more puppy than human. “—Had a big chemistry test yesterday, left me r-really tired.”

  
Tony frowns as he gently takes his son’s fork from him, slightly worried about the kid stabbing himself from pure exhaustion. Glancing at the blinking red clock on the stove, the billionaire ignores Peter small whines of protest as he gets up, grabbing the boy’s plate from under his slumped figure.

  
“Pete, it’s only 8 o’clock. Why don’t you sleep a little more—only two hours or so though, we need to get you back on schedule for the rest of the school year— then come back and eat okay? That way I don’t have to worry about you falling sleep in your milk.”

  
For a second, the teen looks like he might argue, one sweater clad hand reaching up to run through his tussled locks as he blows a raspberry. Tony is quick to replace his boy’s hand with his own when he pulls away, the fine strands of hair soft and silky between his fingers. Peter leans into his touch, a sigh escaping his lips as his eyes slip shut once more.

  
“I guess a couple more hours wouldn’t hurt.”

  
Tony smiles, the early morning light turning his son’s baby face a golden cast of innocence as he blinks. “That’s the spirit! The food will still be here when you wake up, I promise.”

  
Licking his finger, the superhero gently wipes away the now dried butter from his son’s chin, ignoring the kid’s grumbling as he tries halfheartedly to push his father away. Smirking, Tony gently presses a quick kiss to Peter’s temple, the steady thump of his pulse soothing an instinctual urge buried deep within the man.

  
“Now run along, kiddie. I’ll wake you up soon.”

  
Peter just nods, standing up and slumping against Tony’s chest, nuzzling into the man’s shirt with a small sniffle. His thin arms encircle Tony’s waist, giving one large squeeze. His father immediately reciprocates the affection, pressing his face against his boy’s head and breathing in his scent. After a few second does the man finally pull back, cupping Peter’s face in his hands.

  
“I love you Peter.” The elder Stark chokes out, his chest tight with an emotion even he can’t name. _Pride. Love. Protectiveness. Adoration._

  
It makes he knees shake with the weight, with the force of the emotions and the unexpected onslaught.

  
“I love you too, Dad.” Peter yawns.

  
And Tony just feels _so much_ love.

  
So much that is blinds him for just a second, his eyesight blurring with what must be tears because this boy, this kid who didn’t have anything in life, whose heart is as big as his baby brown eyes and who had people push him away again and again—he _trusts_ Tony— trusts him with his heart and safety and protection and the billionaire nearly staggers from the responsibility.

  
But he doesn’t.

  
Tony stands tall and strong, needing to be that force in his son’s life, needing to prove to anyone that would _dare_ to doubt his love for his kid, to even _think_ about doing anything that would ever put him in harms way or even make him sad. Peter must be protected—protected and loved and cherished because he is Tony’s whole world.

  
He is Tony’s _world_ and must be kept _safe_.

  
And well, the genius can start by making sure his kid gets some sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments make my day!;)


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